Christmas Undercover. Hope White
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she whispered.
She realized her rope was still hooked to her belt. She hadn’t planned to drift off to sleep earlier, so she hadn’t taken off her gear. She wrapped the rope around a tree root jutting out from the side of the mountain below the trail and pulled it tight.
For the first time in her life, she appreciated Uncle Matt’s insistence that she take wilderness survival courses, along with self-defense. She used to think he’d forced her to take the classes because her small frame made her a target for bullies. She eventually realized it was because of the nightmares. He thought the classes would empower her, make her feel safe.
Sara had never felt safe.
She dropped to her stomach and shimmied over the edge. Clinging to the rope, she let herself down slowly, hoping to hit a ledge or plateau where she could wait it out. She clicked off her headlamp. At least if she could disappear for a few hours until sunrise, she might be able to make her way out of Echo Mountain State Park.
She calmed her breathing, questioning her decision to follow this lead on her own. Was her boss right? Was she too determined for her own good?
Sara gripped the rope with gloved hands and steadied herself against the mountainside with her boots.
“What do you want to do?” Harrington said.
His voice was close, right above her close. She held her breath.
“We’ll send Bill to find her,” LaRouche said. “He’s got climbing experience.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if we—”
“No, we need answers, like who sent her and what she heard. Then she needs to disappear.”
Disappear. They were determined to kill her. Sara’s pulse raced against her throat.
As she hung there, suspended in midair, she searched her surroundings, trying to see something, trying to stay grounded.
All she could see was a wall of black, which reminded her of...
Stay in here and don’t make a sound.
But, Daddy—
I mean it. Take care of your brother.
Suddenly someone tugged on the rope, yanking her out of the memory.
“Sara Long, is that you?” LaRouche said.
She was relieved they only knew her undercover name, Sara Long. That should keep them from discovering her true identity.
Then, suddenly, they started pulling her up. No, she wouldn’t let them get away with it, killing people, innocent people.
Killing her.
She released the rope and grabbed the tree root, then edged her way down the side of the mountain, grabbing onto whatever felt solid.
She grabbed onto a branch...
It pulled loose from the earth and she started to slide. Flailing her arms, she reached for something, anything, to slow her descent.
But it was too dark, and the fall too steep.
It wouldn’t surprise the guys in her field office if she died out here like this: alone, on some rogue assignment gone south.
She didn’t care. At least this time she’d taken on the enemy instead of hiding from him.
I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have done something to save you.
She came to a sudden stop. Her head whipped back, slammed against something hard, and she was swallowed by darkness.
* * *
Will Rankin approached the end of the trail and made the final turn. His breath caught in his throat at the stunning view, sunlight sparkling off the calm, turquoise water at the base of Echo Mountain, with the Cascade Mountain range spanning the horizon behind the lake. This was it, the perfect place to open his heart to God, hoping for peace to ease the resentment lingering in his heart.
Intellectually Will knew it was time to let it go for so many reasons, not the least of which being his daughters. They needed a loving, gentle father, not a bitter, angry one.
Will thought he had coped with Megan’s death pretty well over the past two years, but the dark emotions continued to have a stronghold over his heart. He was still angry with his wife for shutting him out as she battled cancer, and he struggled with resentment about his mother-in-law, who challenged nearly every decision Will made about Claire and Marissa.
I love my girls so much, Lord. Isn’t that enough?
Apparently not to his mother-in-law.
No, he wouldn’t think about that today. Today he’d commune with nature and pray: for his daughters, for emotional peace and for the strength to get him through the upcoming Christmas season, the girls’ second Christmas without their mom.
It was unseasonably warm at the base of the mountain. Although a recent light snowfall dusted the area around the lake with a layer of white, it would probably melt off by noon. He smiled, thinking about how much the girls were looking forward to playing in the snow.
Then something else caught his eye across the lake.
A splash of red.
Curious, he pulled out his binoculars and peered through the lenses. It looked like a woman in a red jacket, jeans and hiking boots. Her long brown hair was strewn across her face.
She looked unconscious, or worse.
Will shoved the binoculars into his pack and took off. He had to get to her, had to save her. He glanced at his cell phone. No signal.
Please, Lord, let me save her.
As he sped toward the unconscious woman, he wondered how she’d ended up here. Was she a day hiker who hadn’t brought enough hydration? He didn’t see a backpack near her body, yet even day hikers knew better than to head into the mountains without supplies since the weather could change in a flash.
By the time he reached the unconscious woman, his heart was pounding against his chest. He shucked his pack and kneeled to administer first aid. “Ma’am?”
She was unresponsive.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
What had happened to this fragile-looking creature? He wondered if she got separated from her party or had fallen off a trail above.
He gently brushed jet-black hair away from her face. She had color in her cheeks, a good sign. He took off his glove and pressed his fingers against her wrist to check her pulse.
“No!” She swung her arm, nailing Will in the face with something hard.
He jerked backward, stars arcing across his vision. He pinched his eyes shut against the pain. Gripping his nose, he felt blood ooze through his fingers. He struggled to breathe.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried.
“I’m trying to help.”
“Liar.”
He cracked open his eyes. She towered above him, aiming a gun at his chest.
“Please,” he said, putting out one hand in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but I really do want to help.”
“Yeah, help them kill me.”
He noticed a bruise forming above her right eye and lacerations crisscrossing her cheek.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
Will guessed she was frightened and confused. Maybe even dehydrated.
“I’m Will Rankin, a volunteer with Echo Mountain Search and Rescue.”
“Sure,